Tighter Grip

I say goodbye to you and watch 

you walk away.  

I watch me walk away from you walking away.

Me letting go

fistfuls of shirt

released. 

Baby me screamed out

reaching

wishing

incoherent.

I watch

thinking for sure I will collapse right there.

I was let go.

Again.

My mind knows that you cannot stay

but my mind cannot communicate properly to my body.  

All I can feel are your arms around me

and then you leaving. 

It plays on repeat.

I cannot breathe.

Baby me held herself.

Told me I have me.

Told me you’d be back.

Told me the first person that left never came back.

Told me you’d be different.

I cry

big tears

calling you back in the only way I know how.  

You hugged me and I lost my words.

You let go and I felt like I lost myself.

But perhaps that was baby me feeling.

Baby me was put down and lost her roots

her names

herself.

Now I desperately clutch at what remains.

Hands so full of fabric

that they are hesitant to grasp anyone else. 

Two weeks ago, someone asked me how it feels

to know I was abandoned as a baby. 

I lied and said I didn’t know.

Today I told you that I felt like I was going to die

after you went to get on your plane. 

You said

“I’m not putting you down.

I’m holding you

you’re holding yourself too 

and our grip is getting tighter.”

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